


The Lies that make it Easier to Sleep at Night

by tothebatcave53



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Dark Yuuri, Forced Sex, Gore, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Psychological Torture, Rape, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Violence, Yuuri is a terrible person, broken Victor, dark Phichit, forced body modification, strong depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 08:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11964003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tothebatcave53/pseuds/tothebatcave53
Summary: What Victor thought he wanted was life and love, but oh how foolish he had been. Now he just longs for freedom. Except the lines of which type of freedom he longs for start to blur. Is it freedom from the hellish prison he's been forced into or freedom from the world that tries to take him away from his master?





	The Lies that make it Easier to Sleep at Night

**Author's Note:**

> Someone tempted me to write problematic shit and now here we are.  
> Make sure you pay attention to the tags, this is dark and this is gory and Victor suffers, a lot. But if that's your cup of tea, welcome!
> 
> Thank you so much to my beautiful beta childofhebe. Boo, this fic would not have made it without your unending support and love. I adorable you more than words can ever express.
> 
> Bless my artist fluffywulfy. You doing art for this has made me so happy. Please everyone, check it out and rain praise upon them. They are amazing!! You should follow them on [twitter](https://twitter.com/fluffywulfy). :D

When they first find him, Victor is sure it’s a mistake. The morning light is too bright against his tired eyes, watching the road that Yuuri had disappeared down. The chain around his throat is heavy, cold from the chill of night. His fingers and hands have long since lost feeling, tied behind his back. The blood from his scraped knees has dried against the pavement, cementing him in place.

Worried voices move around him, yelling instructions while a siren wails closer from some distance away. Victor flinches back, whining because these men aren’t Yuuri’s men and no one but Yuuri or his men are allowed to touch him.

Yuuri promised.

Still...

Victor is out in the open, with people that don’t want to hurt him. People who are telling him they’re bringing him to a hospital, that he’s safe now. For seven months Victor has never been allowed back out in public for risk of being recognized; Yuuri keeping him close and on a very literal tight leash, but now he’s with people and they’re going to help him.

Victor lets himself weep as he’s loaded into an ambulance.

It has to be a mistake.

There is no way Victor’s free.

\--

_When Victor comes to he notices right away that he’s bound against a metal beam, forced to crouch on the concrete floor of some warehouse. His head is swimming from whatever drugs were forced into his system and his legs are starting to cramp from the position he’s in. He’s certainly woken up in better situations before._

_“Who are you?” Victor bites each word off but he doesn’t feel as brave as he is trying to sound. The man in front of him has darker skin, dark hair and equally dark eyes. He’s throwing a knife casually around in front of him. Victor thinks this might be the man he saw right before he was grabbed on the streets, but he can’t be sure. The drugs make his memory foggy and slow._

_Around him is a whole lot of nothing. The warehouse has clearly been abandoned for some time, rust crawling along the metal pipes and spiderwebs draping down the walls. The only other thing in the building that he can see, beside himself, is the man standing across from him like this is the most boring thing he’s had to do today and not a kidnapping._

_“Hush.”_

_Victor snarls as he’s dismissed, like he isn’t worth wasting the time and energy on. He’s the most decorated male figure skater in history, one of the most famous men in Russia; his presence is going to be missed and they are going to be very sorry that they ever took him. Victor makes sure to spit all of this at the man in front of him._

_“Yuuri really doesn’t like useless chatter so I suggest you learn when to keep your mouth shut.” The man comes forward, laying his knife against Victor’s lower lip, applying pressure until the tender skin splits and blood drips down Victor’s pale skin._

_“Phichit.”_

_The man named Phichit leaps away from Victor, sheathing his knife immediately. “Yuuri,” he says, bowing his head in respect even though his face is split with a grin. “Brought you in your little treasure. He’s a lot mouthier than I thought he would be. Thinks because he’s some living legend he’s above us.”_

_The man that has entered the building moves to stand in front of Victor though he isn’t overly intimidating looking, his face rounded just slightly and a thick set of blue rimmed glasses sitting on his nose. His suit is ill cut for his figure, the blue tie around his neck the ugliest thing Victor’s ever seen. His hair falls around his face; he looks unassuming, hardly dangerous._

_“Just let me go and we can forget this ever happened. You don’t look like you want all the trouble that kidnapping me is going to bring you,” Victor offers, shifting as the cramping in his thighs and knees gets worse._

_The man Phichit addressed as Yuuri leans down, pinching Victor’s chin between his thumb and finger, twisting his head back and forth like Victor is nothing more than livestock. “That won’t be happening Victor, you see I went through a great amount of trouble to obtain you. I’m not simply going to let you run off again.”_

_Victor tries to jerk his head back, growling. “You’ll never get me out of Russia.” Unable to pry himself away he spits at the man above him, furious. Spit mixed with blood from his cut lip clings to Yuuri’s cheeks._

_“I could very easily send you out in pieces if you don’t start behaving,” Yuuri snarls, his fingers tightening to the point of pain. He reaches up and wipes his face clear with a handkerchief, eyes dark as they look Victor over. “You will be coming back to Japan with us.”_

_“Like hell I will!” Victor struggles again, trying to jerk himself back. “I won’t be getting on any plane with you assholes! You think I’m just going to let you take me?”_

_Yuuri’s lips spread into a smirk and he reaches out, taking the hanky he had wiped his face with to shove between Victor’s teeth, gagging him. “Of course not Vitya.” Victor recoils at the diminutive of his name, trying to shove the cloth out with his tongue. Already Phichit is approaching with tape to put over his mouth and Victor screams, thrashing as much as he’s able. “No my sweet Victor, you aren’t flying as a person, you’re flying as luggage.”_

_Victor is powerless under Phichit as the tape is forced over his lips, sealing the rag in place and gagging him silent. In front of him a suitcase is dragged out, kicked over and open and suddenly Yuuri’s words make more sense. Victor screams harder, struggling and straining against the ropes that hold him._

_“Knock that off!” Phichit raises his hand, bringing it down against Victor’s cheek. His head snaps to the side, skin stinging where he’s been slapped hard enough to make his vision black out. “Struggling is only going to make me hurt you more; and trust me, I really want to hurt you more.”_

_Victor’s head swims momentarily, noticing that Yuuri is simply standing and watching as Phichit unties him from the beam and ties his arms tightly behind his back. All Victor can do is clutch his fingers into the sleeves of his shirt and pretend this isn’t happening. It all already feels like a dream, like he’s watching some horror movie play out in front of him._

_Phichit drags him across the ground, ignoring the way pavement and old glass cut into his skin. Victor cries out, quieter now as tears gather in his eyes. He’s forced to lay down, curl up tight into a half ball. Phichit shoves his knees up until they’re practically suffocating him with how tight they are against his chest and throat, arms pulled so taut Victor thinks his shoulders might pop. He sobs louder, struggling until he’s struck across the face again._

_Yuuri leans over him those dark brown eyes chilling Victor straight to the core. Already he’s struggling to pull air through his nose, terror pulsing with every wild beat of his heart. “See you when we land in Japan Vitya,” Yuuri purrs before the lid is shut and Victor is swallowed up by the suffocating blackness._

    ---

The hospital is so blissfully quiet. Victor lays curled up in bed, listening to the steady beep of his heart monitor and the dripping of the IV that slowly pumps him full of fluids and drugs. Sometimes he’s allowed to lay for hours without thinking or feeling anything. He’s never craved that blissful nothing so much before.

Doctors run tests and check him over multiple times before running more tests. Victor just lets himself be moved how they want, the perfect doll. It seems that worries them more because they scribble endless notes down afterward.

Victor.”

Victor raises his head at the soft call of his name, blue eyes focusing back in on the world to see Yakov standing in the doorway to his hospital room. His old coach and father figure looks so much older, the wrinkles in his face deep, the silver hair thinner than it had been and shorter, like more has fallen out.

His heart clenches painfully at the sight, a man he thought he would never lay eyes on again. Fingers shaking, Victor reaches out toward Yakov, silently begging.

Yakov crosses the room in three sharp strides and Victor almost recoils in fear before he’s pulled into a tight hug, Yakov’s shoulders shaking as he cries quietly against Victor’s hair. Victor can only curl his fingers into the heavy coat Yakov always wears and breath deep the familiar scent. He can’t cry, it still all feels too much like a dream.

It just can’t be real, he can’t be free.

But it is Yakov holding him, whispering gruff but soft words into his hair. Victor wants to hope but he’s afraid to. At any minute he could wake up and Yakov will be gone, the comfort he feels now nothing but a curl of smoke around his skin. Yuuri enjoys playing mind games like that.

Maybe in this strange dream though, maybe Victor can let himself pretend.

\---

_Victor is pretty sure he passes out a few times while stowed away in the belly of the airplane. It’s hard to tell when he’s surrounded by darkness, overcome with panic and unable to breathe properly. Maybe he’ll die like this. Maybe he wants to die like this._

_The thought flickers in and out of his mind as they fly further and further away from his home. Away from his life, his beloved dog, his friends, the ice; they leave behind everything Victor has ever known and that made him feel happy, safe._

_The next thing that Victor remembers is bright burning light and the sweet taste of fresh oxygen. His nostrils flare, trying to pull in breath after deep breath._

_“You’re going to pass out from hyperventilating.” Phichit is above him, looking much more relaxed than when he had taken Victor initially. He’s dressed in a simple set of black clothes, a face mask tucked behind his ears and dragged down below his chin. “You certainly look like you’ve seen better days.”_

_The knife from before appears and Victor cringes as it drops near him but the only thing it slices are ropes. With a jolt his arms are free and fall forward, making Victor scream from behind his gag. Blood rushes back into his limbs, the muscles screaming with protest at being moved from the position they had been forced to keep. Tears are already streaming down his cheeks and when Phichit reaches down to yank the tape and gag free, Victor vomits all over the floor._

_“God you’re disgusting.” Phichit steps away, throwing a furious glare at the man on the ground. “Why Yuuri wants to keep you is beyond my understanding.”_

_Victor lays there, chest heaving. Drool slips out the side of his mouth, mixing with the tears that drip down his cheeks. Everything aches. Victor is sure he’s never felt this weak before. Shoes appear suddenly in his line of sight and Victor carefully flicks his eyes up, finding Yuuri staring at him._

_“How was your trip Vitya?” Yuuri purrs, leaning down. His fingers thread into Victor’s sweat soaked hair, touch almost kind as he pets Victor’s silver locks. “Now that you’re here, I expect you to follow some very simple rules.”_

_Victor wants to pull away from the fingers touching him, bite them off, but his brain is fuzzy around the edges and he can hardly lift his hand._

_“Everyone here is above you, you are nothing but a household pet,” Yuuri says, voice steady. “You will do what they want when they tell you, if they have to repeat themselves you will not like the consequences I have for you.” Yuuri tightens his hold suddenly, making Victor gasp in pain. “You will address me only as a master. I rule your life now Victor, if you behave I will be very good to you but I am more than happy to carve off pieces of flesh and feed them to you if you displease me.”_

_A shuddering cough passes through Victor’s frame before he fully raises his eyes to Yuuri. “Fuck you,” he spits with as much venom as he can muster in his weakened state._

_Yuuri’s brown eyes darken, his lips pull into a tight line. “I suggest you try again.”_

_Victor grins up at the man. “Fuck you, master,” he says. It feels like a small victory when Yuuri drops his head back down but then Phichit is behind him and something sharp and burning is thrust between his ribs. Victor screams at the pain, wailing as the Thai man twists the knife slightly further into his body. It’s unreal, watching a knife be pulled free from his flesh but Victor still sees it drag from him, coated in a sticky red substance that he only realizes after a minute is blood, from inside his body._

_“I suggest you wise up and quick,” Phichit whispers in Victor’s ear. He wipes the blade on Victor’s cheek, smearing the pale skin with blood. “Next time I’ll make sure it hurts more.”_

_Victor doesn’t want to know how it could possibly hurt more as he doubles over in pain._

\---

Victor wakes with a shout, air being strangled from his lungs by memories and dreams alone. Beside him, Yakov startles awake and reaches for him only to freeze when Victor flinches away so hard he almost falls from the hospital bed.

It’s just me Vitya.”

Victor flinches even harder at his pet name, shying away when Yakov tries to comfort him. Terror thrums through his veins; all Victor really wants to do is curl up in a corner where people won’t look at him. If he’s out of the way he’s at least a little safe. If no one is looking at him then he can pretend he hasn’t been tricked into thinking he’s found some form of freedom.

    ---

_“Welcome to your new home.” Phichit drops Victor to the floor of a bedroom._

_Victor still feels weak from the plane ride but the fight is slowly returning to his system. He hasn’t been restrained and while his whole body aches and blood still trickles from the stab wound in his side, fighting and making a run for the outside where he can maybe find someone to help him is smarter to do now before things get worse. “Looks drab,” Victor bites out, glancing around for an escape route that won’t take him past Phichit and his knives._

_“Yuuri has simple tastes.”_

_The room is modern, a large bed, dark blankets, paintings of Japanese landscape, a bathroom off to the left, a large walk-in closet sharing the wall with that. Another door leads to a small balcony. A dog bed lays in the corner under a television and next to a set of dressers and Victor sneers. Yuuri will have another thing coming if he expects Victor to sleep on the ground like an animal._

_Yuuri enters behind them, smiling at Phichit. “You can go now Peach. I know you have your own things to attend to.”_

_Victor’s heart soars because Phichit doesn’t argue and Victor is sure he can take Yuuri down much easier than he can take down Phichit._

_“Have fun with your new toy,” Phichit calls over his shoulder._

_Victor watches him leave, the door shutting with a soft click. He turns to look at Yuuri, not yet moving from where he’s kneeling on the hardwood floors. Yuuri hardly seems concerned with his presence, instead moving over to the dresser to pull something out from within. Victor takes his chance and leaps up, bolting for the door. He slams against it, twisting the handle back and forth but it doesn’t budge._

_“You might need this Vitya.”_

_Turning, Victor looks at a chain that has several keys hanging from it. Yuuri holds it between his fingers, dangling it so it swings back and forth. Cursing under his breath, Victor lunges forward but his body is still weak, the burst of energy for the door has sapped him of what strength he had recovered and Yuuri easily side steps him. A fist comes up, slamming into Victor’s stomach making him double over as air rushes out of his lungs._

_“I’m glad you still have fight in you. I was worried your little plane ride had taken all the fun out of me taming you.” Yuuri reaches up, fisting Victor’s hair. His head is yanked backward until Victor is sure that his neck is going to snap._

_Yuuri stares down at him with a wicked grin, too many teeth flashing. The hand that had punched Victor snakes up under his shirt and then Victor feels fingers teasing along the knife wound that Phichit had given him._

_His breath is sucked back into his lungs as Yuuri pushes at the wound, nails scraping under until Victor can feel blood starting to flow again. The fingers twist and turn like worms, trying to burrow into his injury until Victor can’t hold in a whimper. It falls from between his lips the same way tears gather and fall from his eyes._

_“You’re so lovely when you cry my pet.”_

_“You’re a sick fuck,” Victor spits._

_Yuuri slaps him and Victor’s head snaps to the side; he drops down and his body collides painfully with the frame of the bed, his head smacking hard into the corner. Victor crumples around himself, arms wrapping protectively around his head as it throbs in complaint at the treatment._

_“I have something for you Vitya.”_

_Victor would happily tell Yuuri where to shove it if his head wasn’t swimming with the start of a headache. When Yuuri approaches him again, he stays still. He wants to fight but his body is begging him to stay down, act small so that he’ll be ignored. The desire to shy away from the Japanese man makes Victor’s stomach churn with anger at his own weakness._

_Yuuri leans down, pressing his knee into Victor’s bleeding side to keep him from wiggling away. It leaves Victor gasping for breath, the pain like fire weaving through his ribs. He’s so focused on the pain there he doesn’t notice Yuuri’s hands until they’re slipping something solid and heavy around his throat. He feels the collar being buckled together, can hear the little metal pieces as they latch and a padlock is snapped on. The leather collar is uncomfortably tight around Victor’s throat, constricting his airway just enough that with each breath he can feel the collar press into his delicate skin. Victor twists his head to the side and feels how the collar slides, the fibers of the leather irritating and painful. Already Victor can tell that the skin on his throat will be rubbed raw in every spot the leather touches._

_“Mmm, it looks delicious against your pale skin.” Yuuri licks his lips and disgusts raises bile in the back of Victor’s throat._

_“Fuck you!” Victor raises a hand, trying to claw at Yuuri’s vile, smirking face. He can’t even make contact before his hand is caught, twisted backward at such a sharp angle Victor is afraid it’s going to snap. He cries out, stilling until the strain stops and Yuuri simply holds him, the threat clear. “Let me go.”_

_“Do you know how long I’ve waited to taste this, to have you under me, crying and begging?” Yuuri bends Victor’s wrist slightly further until Victor is almost in tears. “You will make the most beautiful pet, already you’re stunning to look at and you aren’t even properly trained yet.”_

_“That isn’t… going to happen,” Victor grits through his teeth._

_Yuuri releases his wrist and Victor cradles it to his chest. When Yuuri grabs his arm again he doesn’t struggle as much, just watches as leather cuffs are buckled around him. They have thick silver rings on each side, which Yuuri quickly padlocks together so that Victor’s wrists are held together. Another length of chain locks his wrists to the collar around his throat, leaving him all but immobile._

_“Someone is going to find you,” Victor hisses as Yuuri stands up, leaving him half curled on the floor. “No matter how good you think you covered your tracks, someone is going to find me and they’re going to kill you.”_

_“I look forward to that Vitya; let them see how I wreck you completely.” Yuuri grabs him under the armpits and hauls Victor upright, tossing him backward onto the bed. The strength in Yuuri’s lithe form makes Victor shy away, watching as Yuuri pulls his shirt off. It falls to the floor in a crumpled up heap, Victor’s blue eyes locked on that instead of Yuuri’s naked torso and how he’s following Victor onto the bed. If Victor can focus on something else, anything else, he can ignore the very real intent that Yuuri is displaying._

_It’s not like Victor is a stranger to sex, he’s topped and bottomed to both men and women before but this is different and he suddenly understands a lot better the fear and disgust assault victims feel. Yuuri’s going to rape him and Victor can’t think of anything he wants less in this world. The thought of being touched by the monster in front of him in such an intimate way makes his skin crawl with repulsion._

_“Please don’t…” Victor whines, sounding pathetic even to his own ears. “I don’t want this.”_

_“No one cares what you want.” Yuuri pulls a knife from his pants pocket, flicking the blade open. It slips under Victor’s shirt before it’s dragged upward, shredding the material in half. Victor is positive Yuuri catches his collarbone on purpose, blood pooling around the cut. “Look at you. Perfection.” Yuuri runs his hand over Victor’s flat stomach, tracing along his abs with a sadistic grin. “You’re all mine.”_

_“I hate you!” Victor snarls suddenly. He tries to twist away. Yuuri’s touch is light but it leaves Victor feeling vile wherever it traces. “Get off of me!”_

_Fingers trail down his spine, press against his ribs and into muscles until he’s shying away from the dull pain. Every move he makes is being manipulated, every twist of his torso to pull away from wandering fingers is Yuuri leading him into the position he wants. Victor finds himself all too soon on his stomach, trapped under fingers that tear him open._

_“Don’t!” Victor gasps as fingers are thrust into his hole, tearing his ass open. He knows he should try to relax, to make this easier for himself but he doesn’t want Yuuri inside of him. The touch feels like fire, burning him until he’ll bare the scars and stains of touch for the rest of his lifetime._

_“You’re so tight, I thought you would have whored yourself around more with how many people want you.” Yuuri kisses along his throat, up to his ear where he sucks at the lobe. “Can’t wait to shove inside of you, feel you around me…” Yuuri moans, thrusting his fingers faster._

_“Stop!” Victor tries to kick out, can tell he hits something with the way that Yuuri’s movements shudder._

_There’s a growl and then Yuuri is fisting Victor’s hair, yanking his head back until Victor can feel the muscles in his neck seize in protest. “I could have made this feel good for you pet, but I suppose animals have to be taught the hard way.”_

_Victor tries to kick out again but Yuuri’s fingers close over his ankles like a vice. His legs are wrenched open, held that way until his ass is open in an obscene display. He can only sob, dignity and self worth washing away with each tear that slides down his cheek._

_“I’m going to make you learn to love this, you’ll learn to love my cock in you,” Yuuri whispers before he’s pushing in. The small amount of stretching those fingers had given him aren’t enough and Victor screams, a white hot pain spreading through him as his hole is stretched beyond it’s limit._

_Yuuri doesn’t waste time. As soon as his cock is sheathed he starts to thrust, his hips snapping forward until all Victor can hear is their skin connecting together with loud slaps. It burns like fire and seems to go on forever. Yuuri moans, slaps his ass and pulls his hair; teeth bite into his throat and nails carve half moons in his hips. Victor screams, cries, tries to bargain and beg for Yuuri to stop until his voice is gone and his throat is sore. Only then does Yuuri finally come, filling him with his come with a low moan._

_When he finally pulls free Victor feels empty. He can feel his hole fluttering, trying to close after the brutal assault. Come leaks down his ass, trickling along his balls and thighs. Victor’s stomach churns with disgust but he doesn’t move, can’t make himself care anymore because everything hurts and he feels violated in a way he’s never experienced before._

_Yuuri gets up, headed for the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. Victor lays very still on the mattress, hyper aware of each movement Yuuri makes through the room. The chain attached to his collar won’t let him move far from the bed and even if he tried the pain in his ass and lower back keep him still regardless._

_“You behaved so well,” Yuuri says after he’s finished the water and tossed the bottle away._

_Victor turns his head enough to see where the man has moved. He’s settled next to the balcony door, a cigarette hanging from between his fingers. The smoke curls in lazy little lines through the cool air; the breeze blowing in through the cracked door helps clear out the smell of sex. The smell of smoke is preferable, gives Victor a chance to breath again without suffocating in the smell of his own rape._

_Objectively Victor might have found Yuuri attractive once, if he had been a normal sane human, but now he only feels a deep burning hatred he’s never felt toward any other person before. “You didn’t give me much choice…” Victor spits against the pillow, turning his head away again._

_“Where would the fun be if I didn’t rough you up?” Yuuri says and the grin in his voice is audible._

_Victor wraps his arms around his middle, shivering. “Please,” he finally whispers, pride be damned. “Just let me go. You’ve had your fun.”_

_“Oh Vitya.” Yuuri stands and Victor shies away as footsteps approach the bed. He barely gets his head turned to look at Yuuri again before the cigarette he’d been puffing on is being pushed into Victor’s thigh, the tip searing into his skin until he’s screaming. “The fun we’re going to have is only just starting.”_

\---

Yuri visits him in the hospital. Victor should have known it would happen, they were like family before he was taken. He’s sullen while he stands awkwardly near the door or in the corners of the room. Yakov ignores him but Victor can’t. Yuri’s twitchiness makes him twitchy, fearful of what sort of outbursts might be directed his way at any moment.

Worse still is the fear that Victor feels whenever he hears Yakov say Yuri’s name. He knows it isn’t his master, Yuuri would never let anyone speak to him the way that Yakov speaks. Victor shouldn’t be afraid, he doesn’t really have any reason to be but he is. Every time Yuri is mentioned he feels himself flinch, trying to hide into the pillows and blankets around him.

Victor wakes one afternoon to find Yakov missing from his normal post next to the bed. He lifts his head, silver hair spilling down into his face from the messy bun the nurse had carefully pulled it into while he’d sobbed in terror.

“He went to get a cup of coffee.”

Victor jolts, turning so quickly he feels something pop in his neck. Yuri is half curled in the corner, his phone screen lighting his face up at odd angles until his sharp features turn demonic looking.

“Calm down it’s just me.”

If he could talk Victor might tell Yuri just how ridiculous a request like that is, considering what he’s gone through. Maybe Yuri knows and is just being cruel, he’s spent enough time in the hospital with himself and Yakov at this point to know the details of Victor’s capture. Maybe he doesn’t know though, maybe Yuri is just being his usual stand offish self because he doesn’t know how else to react.

Either way, Victor is nervous and uncomfortable.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” Yuri finally demands when the silence is too much to bare.

So the later then, he doesn’t know. Victor feels some strange relief that Yuri was spared the details of Victor’s miserable life. He doesn’t answer, mostly because he can’t. Victor rolls back over, curling into his blankets. He can hear Yuri’s angry snort but after that it’s quiet and he can fall back asleep.

\---

_Victor’s favorite place to be is chained up in Yuuri’s bed. It’s not comfortable and if he is he most likely has come and blood dripping off of him in several places but it’s still Victor’s safe space. Being chained to the wall always means only one thing._

_Yuuri is leaving for the day._

_He’s a paranoid man, afraid Victor will escape when he’s not looking. Victor wouldn’t try, not after the first time. When the chain comes out and snaps into the lock on the wall Victor can relax, lay his head down in the pillows and cry without fear of being found._

_Today not only is there a chain collaring him to the wall but his wrists are locked together in their cuffs. His hands lay in front of his face, the chain connecting his cuffs and his collar not long enough to move them much further down past his chin. The extra precaution is uncomfortable but it doesn’t bother Victor as more than a minor inconvenience._

_Victor’s sore all over. His muscles burn, his skin aches, his body weeps. It’s easier to just lay and pretend not to exist._

_The silence in Yuuri’s room offers Victor time to think. Sometimes he drifts, thinking about Yakov or Yuri and hoping that they’re okay. Other time he thinks of his beloved Makkachin. Victor can only pray that his dog is okay, alive and hopefully with someone who knows her and how special she is. Maybe Yakov found her after he disappeared. Victor hopes most of all that she’s safe and happy and loved. Sometimes in his little daydream prayers, Victor can almost imagine her tongue on his cheeks, feel her fur under his fingertips and hear her dog tags as they bounce together._

_Victor’s eyes flutter open. The sound of tags clanging together is close and he pauses to wonder if he’s finally lost it, his mind cracking in what must be a desperate measure to survive the horrors he’s subject to each and every day. Somewhere a dog barks, a sound so familiar it almost makes Victor forget where he is, who he’s with, what…_

_The dog barks again, closer and Victor pushes himself up with his elbows, eyes wide. The dog sounds just like his Makka, which is impossible. There is literally no way._

_The door to Yuuri’s room opens and a brown mass slams into Victor’s chest, almost strangling him as his chain is pulled taunt. Victor doesn’t care, breath wheezing through his lungs as his fingers curl in familiar brown fur and a warm tongue slobbers all over his face._

_"Makkachin?!”_

_Sitting on his chest, warm breath fanning across his face is Makka. She looks strong, healthy and happy. Her tail thumps against Victor’s thigh, her paws heavy over his heart. The tears are streaming down Victor’s cheeks before he even knows he’s crying. Straining against the chain holding him, Victor shoves his face into the soft curly dog fur and sobs. His dog, his best friend in the whole world is here, laying on his chest._

_A sharp whistle has both Victor and his dog jerking their heads toward the door where Yuuri is now standing. Makkachin jumps up, ignoring Victor’s sudden protests and jumps over to the Japanese man. Instead of attacking him, like Victor had desperately hoped she would do; the poodle sits herself down at Yuuri’s side, tail wagging a mile a minute._

_"Makka!” Victor cries, watching as his dog’s ears perk up but she doesn’t move. “Makka come here!”_

_Yuuri’s hand falls on Makkachin’s head, ruffling the soft curls. “She isn’t going to come to you Vitya, she’s my dog now.”_

_“What?”_

_Yuuri comes over, sitting on the edge of the bed by Victor’s legs. “Well, what did you think would happen? Abandoning your dog on the streets like that. It’s a wonder she survived the harsh cold of a Russian winter as long as she did before I found her.”_

_“She… she wouldn’t… she’s my dog!” Victor lashes out the only way that he can, kicking at the man above him until Yuuri grabs his ankles and holds him fast. “She’s my dog! You can’t take her from me. Makka!”_

_“Be quiet Vitya,” Yuuri hisses, grinning. “A dog’s loyalty is easily bought, you just have to offer them something that they want more than an old master could give.”_

_Victor feels new tears on his cheeks as he looks up at Yuuri. “Makkachin… please… come,” Victor begs, turning his eyes toward the dog sitting where Yuuri had been standing._

_Makkachin whines but doesn’t move from her post by the door._

_“Good girl Makka.” The thump thump thump of her tail against the ground is the only sound in the room for several agonizing minutes as it sinks in to Victor that Yuuri has stolen the love and loyalty of his dog away along with everything else._

_“Why?” Victor whispers, looking up at Yuuri. In his chest it feels like his heart is crumbling away into sharp little shards, they shred his skin as they break apart leaving a gaping hole inside of Victor._

_“Well I couldn’t just leave the helpless creature out there.” Yuuri grins wider as he reaches up to brush at the tears on Victor’s cheeks. “If you’re good Vitya, I’ll allow you to spend time with my dog. You could learn a thing or two from her about obedience.”_

_Victor turns his head away, crying softly. Everything in this place is a cruel trick, meant to take a little bit more of him away each time Victor even thinks about getting his hopes up. When Yuuri threads fingers through his hair and pets him, Victor just lays still. Makkachin sits by the door, panting happily._

_\---_

_Victor doesn’t want to say he’s used to this place but he knows his routine. Yuuri at least is not unkind to him when he bows his head, grits his teeth and lets things happen to his body. His only comfort is Makkachin, nothing else in this horrible place could ever make him feel the joy simply having his dog does._

_It_ _does sting some, seeing how much Makka also seems to love Yuuri. A small betrayal, that his dog would love his captor but he can see why. Yuuri is good with dogs, playful even. It’s a far cry from the man that held him down and raped him. The switch of personality is confusing, throwing Victor whenever he sees Yuuri smiling or laughing._

_"Vitya.”_

_Victor flinches at his pet name, rising slowly to his feet. Coming when he’s called is a simple command to adhere to, one quickly learned after Phichit had threatened to shatter one of his knees. He isn’t really sure who he’s more afraid of, Yuuri or his attack dog Phichit._

_“Yes master?” Victor mumbles, eyes downcast. When Yuuri pats his thigh Victor falls to his knees beside the man’s chair, resting his head on the soft cloth covering Yuuri’s leg. Immediately fingers are in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp. The touch is soothing enough that Victor starts to relax, eyes fluttering shut. This is easy, this Victor can do. He can almost pretend that he isn’t a slave here, that there isn’t a collar locked around his throat._

_Almost._

_But not quite._

\---

It bothers Victor, that Yakov knows everything that has been done to him. Before he’d been taken, Victor had given Yakov unrestricted authority to his accounts and that included being fully in charge of his medical documents. His coach and father figure had seen it all, the description of his rape, the scars on his body, the emptiness in his mouth. Victor loathed it, the shame that coursed through him every time Yakov looked at him, but at least he was the only one that knew.

Yurio’s increasing agitation was obvious, that he didn’t know what was Victor’s issue. He knew it was bad, anyone that looked at Victor knew something bad had happened to him, but Yuri seemed to take Victor’s lack of communication as a personal offense.

“Yakov doesn’t act like himself around you.”

Victor glances up from where he’d been examining his blanket. Yuri is in the corner, nose buried in his phone.

“I know you went through some shit.”

Victor looks back down, worrying the fabric between his fingers. He misses his days of laying in silence. Why does Yuri have to be here, tormenting him? Why does Yakov let it happen? Hasn’t he suffered enough?

“You can trust me Victor.” Yuri tosses his phone to the side, his green eyes hard as they try to look in Victor’s. When Victor doesn’t raise his gaze Yuri jumps up. “Would you fucking answer me?! You haven’t talked to me once since you got back!” His fish slams against the bed, still as full of teenage rage as when Victor had left.

Victor jumps, his entire body seizing up as Yurio is suddenly too close and so angry. It’s childish and stupid but Victor opens his mouth to scream in true fear but Yuri’s scream of horror beats Victor to his scream of terror.

\---

_It was inevitable that something would happen to Makkachin in a place where they were both surrounded by insanity. Makka was a good girl, always there with a wag of her tail and a lick of her tongue for anyone that so much as looked her way. Yuuri kept dangerous men around. Phichit was by far the most ruthless, Victor’s body ached endlessly with the wounds the Thai man had inflicted upon him but Phichit was also Yuuri’s loyal attack and guard dog. He did nothing without permission first. The rest of the men Yuuri surrounded himself with were less restrained._

_Victor hears the pained yip early one morning, the light still filtering in through the curtains. He raises his head, chain rattling in the still quiet of the morning. Yuuri grumbles something in his sleep, trying to drag Victor down so he can press his face back into Victor’s shoulder._

_Makka isn’t in her usual spot in the corner, a luxurious dog bed that Yuuri had purchased her. Victor tries to sit up further, looking around for his beloved pooch. There is a whine and then another yelp, just outside the door._

_“Makka!” Victor tries to jump from the bed, heart in his throat at the pained sounds his dog is making. She must have nudged the bedroom door open in the night and gone out to explore or stretch her legs. She isn’t chained to the bed like Victor is, she has her freedom still. “Ma-” Victor’s next call is cut off, strangled from his throat as his leash is yanked harsh and he falls backward to the ground._

_“Be silent,” Yuuri hisses. His eyes are slits, glaring down at Victor. If Victor wasn’t so concerned with his dog’s well being he would heed the silent warning his master is giving. Yuuri is not a morning person and there will be violence if Victor isn’t careful._

_His safety be damned._

_“Someone is hurting Makkachin! You’ve chained me to a damn bed! Let me go to my dog!” Victor screams, trying to yank forward. “She needs me.” A foot makes contact with Victor’s chin, snapping his head back. His teeth clamp down on his tongue and pain radiates through his skull. Victor slumps back as his head spins, whimpering as he still tries to move toward the door and Makkachin._

_Feet land in front of his vision and then walk toward the door. Victor watches from a side perspective, dazed and too weak to lift his head up from where he’s been kicked down. There is another yelp outside and then a choked gurgling noise. Victor hears a sharp snap and then nothing._

_“It’s taken care of.” Yuuri comes back in the room, wiping the blood from his fingers. Beside him, Makkachin limps along. She comes over to Victor immediately, ignoring her own obvious pain to sniff and lick his cheek and make sure that her human is okay, laying half strangled on the floor._

_Victor runs his fingers through her dark fur, down her flank and across her legs. There is a hefty bump over her left hip but other than that she seems mostly unharmed._

_“She got in the way and he kicked her,” Yuuri says, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “He paid for his mistake in hurting my dog with his life.”_

_Victor turns a glare up at Yuuri, biting down on his tongue to keep scathing remarks from flying loose. He’s saved from himself when Phichit knocks on the door and enters._

_“A bit early for clean up duty, isn’t it?” he asks, grinning. Victor isn’t stupid, he knows that Phichit doesn’t mind disposing of a body._

_Yuuri waves the comment off, like he waved off Victor’s desire to save his dog, waved off his rights as a human being. Suddenly that anger Victor was trying so hard to hold back is busting through the dam. “You think you’re so kind hearted, don’t you?” Victor snarls, leaping to his feet now that his head isn’t swimming. “Bringing my dog with, making Makka fall in love with your clever little tricks?”_

_Yuuri gaze turns from indifferent to intense, a glare leveled with Victor. His fingers twitch, twist into fists at his side. “Be very careful Vitya,” Yuuri warns, his voice a low rumble._

_Victor spits at him, livid. He lets all the emotions that have been boiling just beneath the surface explode, his arms tight around Makkachin like he dares the man sitting across from him to call the dog away. “You’re a sick fuck, you know that?” All of the rape, the hurt and humiliation that have happened burn up Victor’s spine and spew words from his mouth like a gyser. Out of the corner of his eye, Victor can see Phichit smirking but he doesn’t care. “Makkachin doesn’t love you; I don’t love you! You aren’t capable of caring for things; you’re a monster. Why would anyone ever give a damn about you? I bet you butchered your dog just to prove a point to someone!”_

_Yuuri’s gaze darkens considerably. He gets up and takes a step toward Victor, a clear threat but Victor is on a roll now. All of the bottled up feelings that he’s been repressing since his kidnap are finally finding their outlet and it feels amazing. “You are a vile human being and when they find me they’re going to lock you away for life. You’ll never get to touch me or my dog ever again. We’ll see who likes being stuck in a cage then!”_

_“Phichit.”_

_Phichit steps forward, pulling one of his knives free and placing it into Yuuri’s hand._

_Victor glares from where he stands, defiant even with the looming threat of punishment. Maybe Yuuri will slide it between his ribs like Phichit had, or maybe he’ll cut his throat and let Victor bleed out on the hardwood floors of the bedroom._

_“Hold him.”_

_Victor isn’t much of a match for Phichit, not when he’s been wasting away as a prisoner while Phichit has remained strong, muscled from training. His knees are kicked out, a punch to his face and gut have him heaving for breath while Phichit wraps around his arms until Victor can’t hope to move unless he wants to dislocate an elbow._

_His blue eyes flash back to Yuuri, watching as a tool of some sort of plucked from a jar on the cabinet._

_“I’ve given you so many chances to be good Vitya.” Yuuri carries the knife toward the bathroom sink, washing it slowly. Victor can see him from the corner of his eye, the door wide open. His movements are sharp and deliberate; there is a slow feeling of dread crawling up Victor’s spine at the cold behavior; it very quickly replaces the bold anger he’d expelled. “But a pet that talks back to his master must be taught not to talk at all.”_

_Victor tries to jerk away as Phichit’s free hand grabs his chin, wraps around and presses into his lower jaw until he’s forced to open his mouth._

_“It won’t be much of a loss to me I suppose,” Yuuri says, stopping in front of Victor. His eyes are dark, malice drips from every pour of his body. Victor doesn’t understand what Yuuri’s saying to him, doesn’t understand his punishment. “It always just got in the way when you were sucking cock anyways.”_

_Victor’s eyes flicker to the knife, then the tiny little forceps like tool Yuuri is holding as he processes the comment. Phichit’s fingers tighten around his jaw, keeping his mouth open and all of a sudden everything clicks. Victor knows what his punishment is and all the blood drains from his face._

_“Master!” Victor cries, struggling in Phichit’s hold desperately. “Master, please don’t!” He jerks his head to the left and then the right, trying to break free. “I’ll be good, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”_

_Yuuri hums, smirking some. “It’s good to know you’re remorseful for your actions. I’ll remember it as the last thing you tell me.”_

_Victor tries to thrash, yank his head away but Phichit has had plenty of time to hold him still. “Yuuri!” Victor screams, desperation thrumming through his veins. “Yuuri, please. Please don’t do this!” Victor screams louder, in an utter panic now as Yuuri reaches for him and Phichit forces his jaw lower. “Yuuri!”_

_The forceps snap around the end of his tongue and pull it forward. Victor can only watch, not even really aware that he’s screaming anymore. His eyes are glued to the knife in Yuuri’s hand, the way his tongue is stretched taut to the point of pain. He feels the cold metal on the soft underside of his tongue for only one chilling second, where he lets himself hope this was just something to scare him but then Yuuri moves and Victor only knows a white hot pain that burns through his mouth and then through every nerve in his body._

_Phichit tips his head forward and Victor watches blood pour from his mouth onto the floor. The strange choked gurgling noise is coming from him Victor distantly realizes, as he’d been drowning in his own blood. Victor’s vision swims as Yuuri kneels in front of him, the blood soaking into his pajama pants._

_“I hope you’ve learned a valuable lesson today Vitya.” Yuuri leans in and Victor feels Yuuri’s lips press against his own, a tongue shoving into his mouth to play with the void left in his own. Victor doesn’t fight when he feels his eyes roll back and he passes out._

\---

_Consciousness is slow to return and when it does, Victor immediately wishes he was dead. The first thing he notices is that his mouth is on fire, his throat dry and painful and head swimming with dizziness. The next thing he becomes aware of is being on the bed, arms chained to the wall where his leash is usually held._

_“Good morning Vitya.”_

_He can’t even turn his head enough to look at his master, eyes filling with tears._

_“Shh, hush now.” Yuuri comes over and runs his fingers through Victor’s sweat soaked hair. “I had to lock your hands up so you wouldn’t put your fingers in your mouth. We can’t have you ripping out your stitches now can we?”_

_Victor wants to scream but his mouth hurts too much to open, wads of cotton stuffed between his teeth and around where his tongue used to be. His stomach twists painfully and he wishes so much that he could get a drink of water._

_“Look at you,” Yuuri purrs. “So beautiful. Do you know what else is wonderful Vitya?” Yuuri quiets, clearly waiting for Victor’s full attention. Without much feeling Victor raises his eyes to meet Yuuri’s. “The last word you ever spoke was my name.”_

_Victor presses his face into the pillow and cries. He feels used up; disgust at himself wells up from deep inside his chest. He’d cried and begged and pleaded with his captor and none of it had done him any good. He was still stuck in this hellhole, still just a hole to fuck and now his tongue had been cut out. He wasn’t lucky enough that it had killed him and if that hadn’t, clearly nothing Yuuri would do to him would._

_With a pained sob, Victor opens his legs and lets Yuuri settle between them. What’s the point in fighting anymore? He’s only going to bring himself more pain. Clearly he’s never leaving this place, not without it being Yuuri’s idea or when Victor finally expires._

_“Oh you’re being so good Vitya.” Yuuri’s voice slides over his shoulder, his tongue plays along Victor’s ear as the sweats he is in are pulled down over his hips. “I should have cut out your tongue months ago if I had known it would curb your behavior so quickly.”_

_Yuuri’s fingers curl around Victor’s cock, stroking it slowly. Victor is fairly sure there is no hope of him getting hard._

_“It’s a good thing too.” Yuuri’s fingers abandon his limp dick, moving to cup his balls. “If that didn’t tame your wild behavior; I would have been forced to try castrating you.”_

_Victor closes his eyes as the fingers trail lower and push into his hole. Maybe if he throws up it’ll be enough to suffocate him before Yuuri is able to pull the cotton from between his lips. When Yuuri thrusts into him, he hardly even registers the pain. Nothing hurts as much as his mouth or the knowledge that he brought it upon himself by trying to act out._

_There is no one coming to save him, no way for him to escape. There is only Yuuri. Yuuri controls his life now, decides what Victor does or does not suffer. If he wants to live in less pain then he simply has to become what Yuuri wants. At this point there isn’t much left that can be taken, only pain to be suffered if he keeps it up. With a soft cry of humiliation, Victor let’s go all hope of returning to any sort of normal life._

_He lets Victor Nikiforov die and Vitya become the only one remaining._

\---

Yakov brings Victor to his home, sets the broken man up with his own room, buys him all new clothes, tries to give Victor everything he might need to readjust to a life of freedom.

Freedom.

The word floats through Victor’s mind, an alien thought he has long since given up on. Yet here he is, two months after Yuuri had left him chained in the streets. Victor misses Makkachin terribly, his bed too cold without the warmth of his dog and the looming presence of his master. Every night Victor lays facing the wall, waiting for arms to wrap around his torso but they never come.

Shadows play in the corners of his vision but none materialize into the man Victor has nightmares about every time he closes his eyes. Whenever one looks like it’s reaching for him, gets just a little too close he’ll end up crying into his pillow, not sure if he wants to shy from the invisible touch or leap toward it. His mind tosses in turmoil, so confused because he misses Yuuri; he doesn’t want to miss him, but he does.

Yakov expects him to do things on his own, expects him to be a person with wills and desires but Victor doesn’t know how to do that. He’s been broken too many times. His wrists ache with bones that hardly healed correctly, his voice is forever silenced, his mind completely shattered.

Yuri comes to live with them when they decide that Victor is settled in enough. They move him in under the excuse that he has to stay close to his coach, since Yakov hasn’t really left the house to actively do his job of coaching Yuri. Taking care of Victor becomes a full time job in itself. Victor doesn’t eat without permission, doesn’t move without permission, wouldn’t dream to even think without permission. It probably is a partial truth, if Yuri wants to continue competing he needs Yakov’s guidance. More than likely though, Yuri is just another pair of eyes to keep an eye on him.

Victor watches the younger man from the corner of his eye whenever he’s home, whenever he tries to get close to Victor. He’s grown so much, really come into the body that puberty has given him. His blond hair is long, braided along the sides of his head like a crown. Victor might have liked it once; he isn’t sure what he should think about it now. Long hair is dangerous, the longer your hair the more there is to grab and pull, the easier it is to have one's mouth dragged onto a cock.

After Yuri’s initial discovery he’s warier around Victor, wanting to be close but afraid to upset the man. It’s a strange line he dances along, trying to tell Victor about his day but choking up when he asks a question Victor has no way of ever answering.

The house moves around him, Yakov and Yuri try to have a life. To their credit they try to involve Victor in that life but Victor just doesn’t care enough to try. He is starting to maybe believe he’s been freed, because it’s been months and Yuuri hasn’t shown up for him again.

This doesn’t feel like freedom though, it feels like abandonment.

It happens one normal evening, or what Victor has decided his new normal must be. Yuri is arguing with Yakov, something to do with his skating. It’s something that has happened a million times before in his life, Yakov is just being Yakov when he snaps at Yuri, screaming at him about a skating decisions but Victor loses his mind. Screaming equals punishment. The last time someone had screamed at him Phichit had broken his wrists, the next time he’d been screamed at Yuuri had taken his tongue.

Victor isn’t aware that he’s crammed himself into a corner, crying while high terrified whines escape his throat. He doesn’t recognize Yakov approaching, trying to calm him down. Instead he does the only thing instinct begs him to do so that he won’t be hurt.

Leaning forward Victor mouths at the crotch of his master’s trousers, ignoring the harsh fabric against his skin. He nuzzles closer, mouth open and ready. He’s a good boy, master doesn’t have to be angry, doesn’t have to punish him if he’s a good boy.

A slap sends Victor’s head snapping to the side, eyes watering at the pain that radiates from his cheek.

Victor looks up, the spell broken and feels shame well in his chest. Above him is Yakov, not Yuuri, and the man he’s considered a father for most of his life looks disgusted and embarrassed and then ashamed of those two reactions, ashamed about striking Victor. He doesn’t say anything to correct it, just turns and walks away. Yuri is watching from the doorway, eyes wide with confusion and fear.

For the first time since he’s been brought here Victor makes the decision to slink away to his room. He curls in his bed, shivering. Panic wants to rip through him but he can’t do anything but shake. He doesn’t know how to be a person, he doesn’t want to be a person anymore.

The thought feels like the last nail in his coffin.

Yuuri took everything from him, he can’t come back to try to live a normal life. He’ll never have a normal life again. He wants his dog, he wants the safety that was offered him by not having to make decisions, he wants to know his place and serve his purpose.

Victor cries himself to sleep, silent tears soaking his pillow.

\---

When Victor wakes in the middle of the night he knows. He sits up, looking around his bedroom. Everything is as Yakov has left it, Victor had refused to touch anything, but the room is different. It’s colder, darker.

The wind whistles through his curtains, the fabric dancing to the invisible current like a puppet on a string.

“Vitya.”

Victor turns his head slightly, watching Yuuri seem to simply materialize out of the darkness. Movement by the window draws his gaze again and he finds Phichit, standing still and watching. His sharp eyes promise Victor pain if he fights, he can already tell that Phichit really wants him to fight.

But he won’t.

Victor drops off the bed, bowing at his master’s feet. Relief is oddly enough the only thing thrumming in his veins because this Victor knows. This is what Victor’s life is now.

Yuuri crouches down in front of him and Victor tries to push himself into the floor even more. “Did you enjoy your freedom?” Yuuri breaths. “Did you see, did you realize how pointless it is to fight me? You’ll never belong in this world again Vitya.”

Victor nods his head furiously, tears spilling down his cheeks.  He wants to be chained to the bed, held down and fucked, feel Phichit’s knives on his back because that is what he’s good at, that is what he can do now. This life, the one with a family and friends that love him, that life is over. The Victor they knew is dead. The only thing left is Vitya, the man who serves Yuuri in whatever way he so desires.

He wants to beg Yuuri to take him back.

“I should leave you here to suffer,” Yuuri says and Victor can hear the horrid smile in his words. Yuuri wants to hurt him, wants to destroy him but there isn’t anything left for him to take. Victor is a broken man.

With a distressed whine Victor pushes himself up, pressing his face into Yuuri’s thigh. He shakes in his spot, the terrified whimpers getting louder the longer that Yuuri refuses to touch him. It doesn’t have to be a kind touch, any touch will do as long as Yuuri takes him back.

A hand finally lands in his hair, stroking gently through it. The touch is so familiar and so unexpected Victor can’t help it, he bursts into tears. The noises coming out of him sound almost inhuman to his ears but Yuuri doesn’t seem to mind, he just tugs Victor to his chest, holding him in a tight embrace.

“It’s okay Vitya, I won’t leave you here.”

Victor wails louder, grasping Yuuri’s suit jacket tight in his fingers. Instead of being scolded Yuuri just lets him sob against his chest, holds him while he cries. Yuuri doesn’t mind the inhuman noises he’s making Victor realises distantly, because he is less than human now. He’s nothing but a pet, a slave and he doesn’t care. He’ll take it if Yuuri keeps him.

“Victor.”

On the floor Victor startles, head jerking up at the sound of Yakov’s voice. The handle to his door is turning, Yuuri rising slowly to stand.

“I wanted to apologize for early Victor. I overreacted, I heard you-” Yakov stops short, eyes focusing in on Yuuri. “Who are you?” His eyes flick over Yuuri, assessing him and then locking on Victor, curled at Yuuri’s feet like the animal he is. “You did this to him.”

“I did.” Yuuri smirks, placing his hand on top of Victor’s head. “I wanted him so I took him.”

Yakov snarls and takes a step closer but Yuuri’s free hand snaps out, pulling his gun and aiming it at Yakov’s head.

Victor cries out, distressed. He can handle being punished, can accept living as nothing more than Yuuri’s play thing but to watch the man that helped raise him murdered simply because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, Victor wouldn’t be able to survive it. Desperately he clings to Yuuri’s slacks, whining and pushing his face into the man’s thigh.

“It seems my pet wants me to take sympathy on you.”

Phichit steps forward as Yuuri lowers his gun. Victor cries out louder, looking up at Yuuri with wide and pleading eyes.

“You see Mr. Feltman, I’ve remade Vitya into something so much grander than he was before. To take a person and completely reshape them is a work of beauty, of art. Victor should be displayed to the world like this, desperate to please me in whatever way I desire.”

Yakov growls, fists clenched tightly at his sides. “You raped and tortured an innocent man.”

Yuuri waves the comment off, gun swinging through the air casually. When he stops the gun hangs in front of Victor’s face, the sharp smell of gunpowder and metal stinging Victor’s nose. “Say what you like but the man you knew no longer exists.” Seeming to want to prove his point Yuuri taps his gun to Victor’s lips, watching as the man at his feet opens without a fight.

Victor makes no protest as the gun is pushed into his mouth, instead he does as trained. He hollows his cheeks, sucking at the barrel of the gun like he would suck at anything else pushed into his mouth. That is what he’s good for now; that and nothing else. He knows he should likely feel some sort of shame, Yakov is standing right there watching him but Victor can’t feel anything besides the desire to save himself from future pain and to please Yuuri enough that Yakov is allowed to live.

“I won’t let you take him.”

Victor whips his head around almost as fast as Yuuri pulls the gun from his mouth, aiming it at Yakov again. Phichit is already behind the older man, knives drawn.

“You’ll be dead at my feet, not even able to watch as I take him from you a second time,” Yuuri growls.

If there was ever a time that Victor wants to beg it’s now but there are no words he can force from his mouth. He can only whimper and whine, grovel like a kicked dog. He doesn’t know how to make Yuuri stop from pulling the trigger; his master enjoys bathing in blood almost as much as Phichit does.

Victor pushes his face against Yuuri’s crotch, sobbing. He tugs desperately with his fingers, mouths at Yuuri’s cock in a hope that by showing a desire for his master said man will show mercy on the man Victor loves.

“Your pet is disgusting,” Phichit grumbles, watching Victor beg.

“He isn’t a pet!” Yakov barks.

“I’d keep quiet if you knew what was good for you.” Phichit lifts his knife, sliding it along the side of Yakov’s neck. Victor can see it out of the corner of his eye. He cries louder in response, desperate to be shown at least one mercy in the hell that has become his life.

“It’s okay Phichit,” Yuuri says and when Victor flicks his eyes upward he is met with an almost tender gaze as fingers scratch through his hair. “You see,” Yuuri purrs at Yakov and looks up at the old man. “Vitya is such a good boy, he knows his place at his master’s side.”

Victor nods, fingers curling in Yuuri’s pants. The longer Yuuri’s attention is on Yakov and not on him, the more Victor fears Yuuri will draw his gun up to kill the man again.

“I’ll let you live,” Yuuri says and Victor deflates against him, sobbing in relief. “The pain you’ll have to keep with you knowing that I took him, that I broke him and that I continue to break him every day is torture enough.”

Yakov snarls across from them.

“And.” Victor tenses under Yuuri’s fingers. Whatever Yuuri is about to say is likely going to be unpleasant, cruel, dangerous. Yuuri is merciless when it comes to hurting others, Victor knows all too well how his words can cut just as badly as any blade. “Yakov, if you ever try to come after Victor, or after me, I’ll come back and I’ll do this same thing to little Yuri.”

Victor pales, watching Yakov shake. Yuri, the younger boy he’d watched grow and help mentor. There is nothing in the world that Victor wouldn’t do to keep him from this life because Yuri is a fighter, Yuuri would rip apart his body until there was nothing left of him.

“Vitya.”

Victor raises his face, looking up into Yuuri’s brown eyes. They sparkle with the pain he knows he’s causing, Victor has long since stopped wondering how someone can get so much joy out of suffering. Yuuri’s cruelties are something he will never understand; he will likely have to endure every single cruel idea that comes through Yuuri’s head for as long as he’s allowed to live.

“Say goodbye. You will never see this place again, you’re coming home.”

He waits on his knees, confused by Yuuri’s words. When a boot nudges at Victor’s leg he carefully shuffles back, waiting for Yuuri to take back his words of goodbyes. When nothing happens, Victor turns and crawls to Yakov, keeping one eye on Yuuri the entire time. When he is still not reprimanded, Victor carefully leans into the man’s legs, shaking with unshed tears.

Yakov glares at Yuuri before he sinks to his knees, hugging Victor to his chest in a crushing hug. “I’m so sorry Victor.”

Victor nods, he understands but there isn’t anything any of them can do about this. Yuuri has all of the power here, can disappear with him and reappear without an issue. Victor was never safe but now if he can keep Yuri safe by disappearing again it won’t be a great loss to him, he’s already a broken, defiled man.

Phichit steps closer and Victor flinches, wishing he could curl up in Yakov’s protective embrace for the rest of his short life but he can’t. Instead he pushes back some, ignoring Yakov’s resistance in letting him go. That only gets you hurt, so instead Victor pulls back harder until he’s released and can return to Yuuri’s side. Phichit finally steps away from Yakov, knives stowed in the sheaths strapped to his thighs and only then does Victor relax.

He doesn’t move as Yuuri wraps his collar back around his throat, the weight is familiar and comforting in a way he has missed over his few months of pretend freedom. When the lead is clicked to the collar the sound is a final statement, it won’t ever come off again, not until Victor is disposed of.

Victor doesn’t even notice when the tears fall from his eyes; he doesn’t notice being taken away again even though he’s completely conscious this time. It doesn’t matter because at least Yakov and Yuri are alive, safe as long as Victor obeys and Yakov stays away. Victor knows he will, if only for Yuri’s sake. The apology Yakov had whispered to him had been because he was making a choice and Yakov had chosen Yuri, but Victor doesn’t mind. He wants the same thing.

At least where he’s going he knows his routine, he knows what to expect and Makkachin is there which makes things a little better. Strangely, Victor is pretty sure that Yuuri loves him in his own sick and twisted way. Since Victor has nothing left and can only look to Yuuri to keep him alive, he supposes he loves him too.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it through please let me know what you think. Comments mean the world to me. Thank you for reading!!
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tothebatcave53.tumblr.com/).


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